


Partners

by Flutiebear



Series: Walk Beside Me [2]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Anybody Else But Me (And Serena And The Luminary) Think WildSide!Erik Is Super Hot, Dirty Thoughts, Erik Suffers 2019, Jealous Boyfrand is Jealous, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Thinking A Lot About Wall Sex, Vince Vanquish Is A Total Doofus, Wise Words From Veronica, ok just me then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 04:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17338478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutiebear/pseuds/Flutiebear
Summary: Everybody is thrilled by Vince and the Luminary's resounding win in the MMA semifinals. Everybody, that is, except Erik.





	Partners

**Author's Note:**

> My life needs more jealous!boyfrands in it, apparently. I'm such a sucker for this trope. Anyway, this story is meant to take place between when you win the MMA semifinals and when the break-in happens at Vince's place. 
> 
> Oh, and my Luminary has a name now, I guess.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading/kudosing/commenting. If you want to hit me up on the burning nipplocalyptic husk that used to be Tumblr, I'm Flutiebear there as well.

"Another round for another round!" Vince cries, waving his tankard in the air to a chorus of drunken cheers. He slaps Terran on the back with so much force that the Luminary pitches forward, froth sloshing from his mug and into his hair, on his duster. He's going to stink of stale beer in the morning.

Terran coughs to regain his breath, then smiles warmly back at Vince. Vince's hand rubs his shoulder once, twice before finally falling away.

Across the taproom, you cross your arms. Your beer sits before you, untouched.

Veronica and Serena, returning from the washroom, walk past you. Thankfully, Veronica has been so overjoyed to find the one bar in Erdrea that will let her in that she's barely bothered you all night. It's only when she spots your boots on the table that she stops and, with the butt of her staff, swats at them. 

"Gross," she says. "Nobody wants to see your muddy shoes."

"Then don't look." You are in no mood to deal with Veronica's smug, holier-than-thou _everything_ right now.

"Oh, Erik, it's you!" Serena looks behind her, startled. "I didn't see you back there. Won't you come join us?"

"Too loud," you mutter, craning your head around Serena's hip.

"What did you say?"

"Exactly."

Veronica rolls her eyes. "Just come join us already. You look creepy, sitting by yourself all the way over here and staring." 

"Somebody has to watch our backs," you say, more harshly than you meant to.   

"Oh, lighten _up_ ," says Veronica with an irritated sigh. "Come on, Serena."

Serena shoots you a concerned glance, but you barely notice it; your attention is captivated by the long line of the Luminary's throat as he tosses his head back and laughs at a joke Vince has just told.

"Just leave him," says Veronica with an annoyed cluck of her tongue. "If he wants to sulk, then let him. Better he do it in the corner, anyway, than spoil everybody else's fun." 

You let them leave without so much as a snarky retort. Across the room, Vince has leaned back in his seat, draping one arm across the back, balancing a foot on the edge of Terran's chair. His chest is broad and wide and on full display, as if Vince is a feast fit for kings, and he wants Terran to take a bite.

You want to stab him. Badly.

You've never felt smaller than you have standing next to Vince. He exudes warmth, sweats charisma. He's polite, kind, charming. For fuck's sake, he's even good with kids—whereas you can barely stop yourself on the daily from murdering Veronica, and she only _looks_ like a child.

Worst of all, Vince is handsome. _Really_ handsome. He's got shoulders like a warship and a waist narrow enough to climb, and his is the kind of easygoing, unassuming smile that a kid from the sticks might fall for, hard. He might even be your type too, if he weren't so busy making eyes at your partner. 

 _Your_ partner. Not his.

You were there first, dammit.

Vince says something that makes Terran duck his head shyly, hair falling forward to hide his smile. Then Vince leans forward and claps Terran's shoulder once more. This time, however, his hand lingers even longer, his thick, meaty fingers kneading into Terran's shoulder, massaging the muscle, a not-so-subtle invitation.

The Luminary looks up at Vince through long eyelashes. You swear you can see literal stars in his eyes. His cheeks are red, from drink and the warmth of the bar and who knows what else. 

You can't watch this. If Vince wants to grope _your_ partner and Terran wants to let him… well, you don't need to stick around for it. 

The scrape of your chair against the floor can be heard across the bar, and it's like an electric shock jolts through Terran. He jumps back in his seat, finally putting some distance between him and Vince. In his storm-cloud eyes brews something almost like panic, as he scans the room, searching.   

You stick to the shadows, so that he doesn't see you leave.

You slip outside into the cool night air. It's always cold inside Octagonia; under the sunless dome, the city is a warren, deep and dank and dark. It reminds you of winters in the Snaerfelt, where the sun sets and doesn't rise again for three months. The memory does nothing to improve your mood.  

You wander, letting your feet take you up and down the curling stairwells, past the apartments and shops, their doors locked up tight for the evening. It's quiet enough to hear your own breath. Everyone is at the bar, you suppose, celebrating the In-Vince-bles victory. The partnership that took the semi-finals by storm.    

 _Partner._ At the tournament, Vince had dashed that word off like it meant nothing, and now it grinds at you, a stone in your boot.

What does Vince know about partners, anyway? Does he know how Terran digs his back heel into the dirt just before he makes an overhand swing? How he always flicks his fingers up, like he's shaking water from them, whenever he casts a spell? How he hunches over his sword when he's hurt, damn near doubling over from the pain but too stubborn to stand down? Does he know that look Terran gets on his face when he's feeling truly desperate, that wild flame that sparks in his eyes, that ghost of a grin on his lips that makes you believe anything is possible?

Does Vince know how to make Terran laugh—a real belly laugh, not that polite little chuckle he usually offers up to everybody else? Does he know how to make sure Terran is eating and sleeping and sitting astride his horse the proper way, so he doesn't get blisters? Does he know how Terran's skin catches a campfire's light, and it makes your heart stop as he turns almost to gold? Does he know how Terran dances like somebody's grandmother; how he always steps just a second too late, ever so slightly off the beat; how he grins maniacally as he swings his arms to and fro; how it always opens up something inside of you, like clouds rolling off the sun?

Does Vince know what it's like to struggle, every minute of every day, to contain the beast within you, a beast that demands you throw this paragon of virtue against the nearest wall and cover his body with yours and devour him until you both come apart?

Actually, he probably knows all about that.

You sigh.

You've tried so hard not to notice the feelings brewing inside you, to shove them down into that secret place you've stuffed all the other inconvenient emotions that over the years have threatened to get in the way of your continued survival. Ever since Gondolia, though, you feel like a searchlight lands on you when Terran says your name or looks your way. Every accidental brush of hands, every shared smile, even the casual way he brushes hair from his face feels like a damned apocalypse.

You shouldn't be feeling this way about the Luminary. He's Erdrea's messiah. People worship messiahs. They don't lust after them. They definitely don't want to fuck their brains out until they're limp and gasping on the bedsheets.

And they certainly don't have dreams about tangling up together afterward, waking up in each other's arms somewhere quiet and soft and safe.  

"There you are," comes a voice behind you.

You damn near jump out of your boots. Then you take your time in turning around, just in case the Luminary can now count mind-reading among his many skills. It's not often you're caught by surprise, but Terran has always had a knack of knocking you off your guard.    

"Here I am," you reply.

Terran's cheeks are red, his hair is frizzed. You can still see the beer stain on his shoulder. "I wanted to check on you," he says. "I saw you leave earlier." 

You scoff. "That's a surprise. Amazing you could see anything at all, what with Vince up in your face like that." 

Terran takes a tentative step toward you. The sound of his boot echoes in the alley. You can't believe you didn't hear him approach just now. You must have been really out of it. "Is everything okay?"  

"Yeah, fine." Your voice is as tight as a bowstring. "Why?"

"It's just… You seem angry."

"I'm not angry." You aren't. You're _jealous_. Goddammit it all to hell, you're seething with envy, boiling with it, like a cauldron left too long on the flame.

"Did I—did I do something wrong?" he says, suddenly uncertain.

The beast within you snaps against its bonds. You want to shove Terran to the ground, right here, right now, in this rancid, trash-strewn alley. You want to feel him strain and buck under your hands, to dig your fingers into his tender skin and supple flesh. You want to drag your teeth against his pulse points and taste the sweat on his neck. You want to hear him beg for your touch. For you. Not for anybody else. _For you._

"No," you growl.  

"Oh." He looks a little lost. "Uh. Okay."

You run a hand through your hair and will yourself to act like a normal goddamn person already. "You should go back. The party's waiting for you back at the bar."

"Um." He looks away. "I'm actually headed to the orphanage."

"Why?"

Twin points of color stain his cheeks. "Vince asked to meet me there. He said he wanted to talk."

Your fingernails dig into your palms like knives. "Yeah, I bet he did."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You force out an exhale. "Nothing."

Terran takes another step. He wouldn't do that if he knew how violent your thoughts were right now. How close you are to breaking. "It's not nothing," he says, "else you wouldn't have said it."

"Fine," you huff. "It means that a guy like Vince never wants to just _talk._ I saw them all the time back in Downtown. They're all smiles and charm, but when they get you alone, that's when they get grabby."

He steps closer to you, and your fingers twitch. It's taking everything you've got not to launch yourself at him, to rut against him like a wild dog, to growl against the shell of his ear, _mine, mine, you are mine._  

"Erik," he says, "what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing's gotten into me. I told you, I'm fine."

"You really don't seem fine." He swallows, throat bobbing, and you have to look away. "Why don't you like Vince?"

"It's not that. I just don't trust him."

"But why?"

 _Because he has a hard-on for you that could be seen from space._ "Because he's hiding something."

The corner of his mouth quirks. "You think everybody's hiding something."

"Usually because they are." Suddenly you're furious at Terran, absolutely furious that he could laugh at a time like this. Laugh as he's off to get banged like a tentpole in a hurricane while you just, what? Go back to the inn, you suppose, and lie in your bed for hours, staring at the ceiling and stewing in your own frustration. You can't even have a good wank, because you, Serena, Veronica and Sylvando are all stuck sharing one room. Because rooms with only one bed are for _competitors_. "Look, have you even thought for one second about how you're still a wanted man? How we both are?"

"Of course I have," he says in a tone that suggests quite the opposite.

"Doesn't look that way to me. Snuggling up to the most famous man in Octagonia, I swear, it's like you want to get caught."

A faint line appears between Terran's brows. "I was not _snuggling up_ to Vince."

"Huh. Could have fooled me."

He gives you a level, appraising look; the kind he gives Faris, and Noah, and all the other people who secretly drive him insane. You hate that look. "Of course I haven't forgotten we're wanted men," he says. "But we're a whole continent away from Heliodor. We're safe here."

"If you think that's true, then you're as dumb as Vince." He flinches, and you feel bad, almost, but mostly you're still just furious. "Hendrik isn't the kind of guy to give up easily. If anybody could command a horse to swim, it's that guy."

"Hendrik isn't going to catch us. Nobody is. Nobody here even knows who we are. And," his expression darkens, "if anybody thinks we're suspicious, maybe it's because you won't stop scowling in the shadows all the time, like some kind of criminal." 

"Hey, I'm just trying to watch your back. I'm trying to keep you safe, since you can't be bothered to do it yourself."

"I can handle my own back well enough, thanks. You don't need to do me any favors."

"Sure, because now you've got Vince to do them for you."

At his side, Terran's hands ball into fists. He looks ready to throw a punch. You'd almost welcome it right now. Anything to stop this runaway horse from leaping off the cliff.

"Erik, stop it." Terran's voice is low, dangerous.  "This isn't like you."

"Listen, pal," you snarl, "you don't know the first thing about me." 

"I know you're being a real jackass right now."

"Ooh, strong words from the Luminary. Pity your girlfriend's not around anymore to scrub your mouth out with soap."

Terran's eyes widen. He doesn't move. He doesn't even breathe. Neither of you do.

You can't believe you just said that.

_What the fuck is wrong with you?_

"Sorry—" you begin, but he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

"Stop talking." His eyes are colder than you've ever seen them, like a swell of snow tumbling from the mountains. "Go cool off. Come back when you feel like acting like a grown-up again. Until then, I have things to take care of." 

"Yeah—" You want to leave it there. You want to turn around and walk away. You want to do the right thing, the smart thing. But, but—you can't help yourself. For fuck's sake, _why can't you help yourself?_ "—with Vince."

"Yes." He grits his teeth. "With Vince."

"Have fun."

"I will." He stomps two, three steps away, then stops and slowly turns back to you. The vicious look he gives you could sear the flesh from your bones.

"Oh," he snarls, "and even if I were, as you said, 'snuggling up to Vince,' tell me, what business is it of yours?"

He stares you down, and you stare right back, hot gazes boring into each other, like two tundra wolves struggling for dominance.  

You look away first.

"None, I guess," you say quietly.

"That's what I thought." His voice is hard, flinty as a sword edge. "Good night, Erik. Don't wait up."

He turns, baring his back to you as he leaves without another word. You sag against the wall of the alley, and the fight goes out of you in a rush.

You're pretty sure now that Terran knows how you feel. That he knows, and he just doesn't care.  

**

Terran doesn't come back to the inn that night.

You tear yourself into pieces imagining all the reasons that could be. The uncertainty of it all threatens to consume you alive.

You are certain of one thing, however, and that's that Vince has seized the chance fate gave him and done what you could not. Maybe even now, he has Terran on his bed, while Vince is on his knees before him, Terran's long fingers tangled in his hair, the birthmark on the back of his hand shining like a beacon as he holds on tight, as he tosses his head back, bares the soft column of his throat to the ceiling, while Vince dips his mouth and—

"Grargh," you growl, scrubbing your hands over your face.

"Pipe down over there," snaps Veronica.

"Shut it, short stuff."

You can hear her sit up in bed, taking little care not to rustle her sister sleeping next to her. It's a good thing Serena is such a sound sleeper, and that Sylvando is still at the party. "What is _up_ with you tonight?" Veronica hisses. "You've been an absolute pill, more so than usual."

"None of your business."

"It is my business if you keep waking me up every five minutes. What is going on?"

"Nothing. You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, really? Try me."

Not for the first time, you regret ever saving her skin back in Hotto. "Go back to sleep."

"Fine. If you won't tell me, then I'll just have to guess. Let's see. You ate too much spicy food. You're still sore you got beaten by that girl and her grandpa. Someone messed up your hair."

"Just leave me alone."

"Hmm…How about: You have the hots for our fearless leader, but you're worried he's gone and replaced you with somebody nicer and better-looking?"

"Wh--where do you—" you sputter. "Jeez, Veronica. The stuff your twisted mind comes up with, I swear."

"Huh. I guess Serena was right, after all. I owe her a gold."

"I do not—"

"Look." She sighs a sigh that could rattle the door frame. "You don't have to worry about Terran. He isn't into Vince. Even _I_ can see that."

You don't want to ask. You know you shouldn't ask. This is the wrong conversation to have, and the wrong person to have it with. But once again, you can't help yourself. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because," her tone is absolutely insufferable, like she has swallowed an entire flock of canaries and every time she opens her mouth the whole lot of them sing, "he's arse over teakettle for you. _Obviously_."

Every inch of your skin sets on fire at once. It feels like the bed itself is going to ignite. "Quit joking around."

"Does it look like I'm joking?" says Veronica somewhere in the darkness. "He's utterly hopeless for you. It's always Erik-this, and Erik-that. I mean, he went absolutely mad when Jasper kidnapped you. I thought he was going to tear Gondolia to pieces with his bare hands, just to get you back."

Your hand drifts to the still-healing scar on your chest. It doesn't pain you anymore. Much.

"He'd do that for anybody," you offer weakly.

"Oh, yeah sure. I see him taking on whole battalions for me and Serena all the time. Urrgh, you are so thick sometimes." You hear rustling as she settles herself back on the bed. "Think whatever you want. Just be quiet about it. I'm going back to sleep."

"Veronica?" But she doesn't answer except with a very pointed snore that you assume cannot possibly be real, but, you discover to your dismay, actually is.    

You wish it were that easy for you. But you can't sleep. Not now. After what Veronica said, you might never sleep again.

**

Terran wakes by shaking your arm roughly, with none of the usual gentleness you've come to expect from his touch. You realize you must have fallen asleep at some point, but it doesn't feel like you got much shut-eye. Somehow, you feel even worse than you did before.

"There's an emergency. At the orphanage," he says. When he meets your eye, his expression gives nothing of his thoughts away. "Come with me."

"Of course." You're half out of bed already and reaching for your daggers. Because when Terran asks, you come running, like the loyal lapdog you are.

_He was going to tear Gondolia to pieces with his bare hands, just to get you back._

Everyone dresses and packs their gear quickly. It takes you seconds, however; after years on the road, you've learned how to sleep in everything but your boots. That leaves you and Terran, standing around, waiting for everyone else to get ready.

He doesn't—won't—look at you. The argument hangs in the space between you, tangible as a storm cloud, threatening to burst.  

Then it's over. You all hustle down the stairs and out the inn. At the door, you shoulder past Terran without looking in his direction.

"Erik, stop."

You stop.

"Can you—turn around?"

You turn around.

 _Sit, boy,_ you think. _Stay._

Terran fumbles a bit with his hands before speaking. "About last night…"

"Forget it," you say as casually as you can muster. The sleepless night is making your arms and legs feel thick and cottony. Not the best state to be in for a fight, should it come to that. "I already have."

Terran frowns. "No, I won't forget about it."   

You shrug but can't meet his eye. "Up to you, then."

"Stop. That was our first real fight. We have to talk about it."

"Talk about what? You're a big boy. You can do whatever you want." His eyes are boring into you, and your skeleton feels like it might crawl out of your skin. Terran is always so open and honest. He's such an open book, daring you, begging you to turn the pages. For the first time since you've met him, you're not sure you should. You start to check the securings on your daggers, just to have something to do. "You made that crystal clear last night."

"But I—"

"Look, I overstepped. And I'm sorry, especially about the Gemma thing. Really. That was low."

"It was," he concedes.

"But it's all over now. Don't make it more than it was."

He stares at you for a long time, waiting for you to lift your gaze from your hands. But you won't, you can't. Finally, he heaves a bone-rattling sigh worthy of Veronica.

"Fine. I'll drop it."

"Good." When he still doesn't move, your hands still, fingers brushing the hilts of your weapons with feather-light touch. "So, uh, should we go catch up with the others, or…?"  

"Just so you know," he says quietly. "Nothing happened."

"Huh?"

"Between Vince and I." Now it's Terran's turn to avert his gaze; he finds an interesting speck of dirt on his sleeve and inspects it carefully. "We just talked."

This is the last thing on earth you expected him to say. How could something _not_ have happened between them last night? Vince was practically humping Terran's leg in the bar.

Even still, a weight lifts from between your shoulder blades, and you hate yourself for it. Suddenly, as Veronica's peculiar way of pronouncing the word 'arse' rings in your ears, the last couple hours begin to feel really, _really_ stupid.

"Oh." You clear your throat and try to regain some composure as you swim through your overwhelming relief. "I mean, it's okay. Even if you had, well, _you know,_ it would've been okay."

He looks up at you, fire burning in his eyes. But it isn't anger. Not… precisely.  

"Yes, it would have been." he says. "Because I can talk to whoever I want, and I can fuck whoever I want, and _you_ don't get to give your input, unless I ask for it. Are we clear?"

Hearing the word _fuck_ slip out of that perfect mouth of his—those heart-shaped lips that form such shy smiles, that let forth such a soft and kind voice—it does things to your nether regions altogether incongruent with the steel behind his words. The beast within you howls, and howls.

You clear your throat again. _Down boy._

"As crystal," you manage eventually.

"And I would," he says. "Ask for it."

Your mouth goes dry. "W-would you now?"

A muscle in his jaw jumps. It's like he's waiting for you to say something else, but you can't imagine what it might be.

Then he nods. "There's nobody whose opinion I trust more. There's nobody _I_ trust more. You're my best friend, Erik. My partner."

Huh. There's that apocalyptic feeling in your gut again.

"So I need you to trust me, too," he says, stepping tentatively closer. "With everything we've been through together, I feel like I've earned at least that much."

Some of the tension eases from your shoulders. Is _that_ what he thinks this is all about? Trust?  "Of course I trust you, Terran. I trust you with everything I have. I trust you with my life." You offer a smile as warm as you dare to. "It's everybody else I have a problem with."

You and he finally lock eyes.  

"I don't want to fuck anybody else," he says suddenly. He flushes and licks his lips and looks like he's about to say more, but then decides not to.  

For a brief, violent second, you're sure that you're going to launch yourself across the distance separating you two, and crush your mouth to his, and drag your nails across his flesh until he bleeds or comes or maybe both. For a brief, violent second, you're sure he's asking you to.

The moment passes, though, and when it does, you're still just a coward.

"Yeah," you mutter, swallowing hard. "Got it. Lead the way."

He nods, still flushed, and the two of you chase the others to the orphanage, down into the dark; and you try very hard not to think about how very close the walls of Octagonia are; how solid and inescapable; and how they seem to push you and Terran closer together with every step forward you take.


End file.
